Once a year I eat myself sick. Sweetly seriously sick.
Helloooo Halloween!
My favorite “holiday.” At 59, I’ve loved it as much as I did when I was 35, 15, 5. If I’m venturing out, I dress up in a costume created if not partly then entirely by moi.
My mother told me long ago that when my sister and I were young, she, mom, offered to take us to the dime store for costumes but we always insisted on making them.
Some things never change!
In my town, Mount Vernon Avenue is Halloween on Steroids. An amazing avenue it is. So much so that kids come by the busloads from outlying areas, especially Phoenix, hours away, just to participate.
An estimated 5,000 people descend on historic and moneyed Mount Vernon for over-the-top decorations befitting stately homes and oak-lined streets that scream Halloween.
The candy. Ohhhhhh the candy! Along those several spooky city blocks, each resident spends HUNDREDS of dollars on candy! Some even hand out full-sized Snickers!
It’s a diabetic’s worst nightmare and a sweet tooth’s wet dream.
I don’t eat much sugar. The sweet tooth of my youth is pretty much bye-bye.
But on Halloween, I make an exception. I costume up and trick-or-treat. The Mount Vernon residents don’t care whether you’re 3 or 33 or 93! Sweets for all!
I raked it in, needless to say. In one night, collected more candy than I eat in a year.
Then I ate it. In a night.
Not ALL of it, mind you. I’m a picky eater, especially with sweets.
What I don’t go for on Halloween:
Fruities. Chewies. Anything endangering my zillion dollars of dental work! Hard candies. Suckies. The likes of lollipops.
What I go for:
Most Americana chocolates, excluding waxy Hershey’s. Milky Ways. Snickers. 3 Musketeers. Butterfingers. REESE’S PEANUT BUTTERS!!!
I pig out ’til I feel kinda woozy. Rest. Then eat more.
Repeat.
Like the Romans at their Gluttony Fests.
To be honest, it’s not really FUN. It’s tradition.
Dating back to my late 20s. I worked in an office a stone’s throw from an old Woolworth’s, where you could buy candy corn by the pound.
REAL candy corn. Brach’s. There is no other!
So I’d buy a pound. Bring it back to my desk and dedicate the day to a Sugar High courtesy of candy corn. One day a year. I’d eat until I was in a metaphorical coma.
Then I wouldn’t touch it ’til Halloween the next year. And the next.
Here in my senior years, I can no longer inhale sugar like that young pro. It’s been ages since I’ve pigged out on candy corn.
BUT I can still put it outta the fire with the right chocolates!
In the spirit of tradition. In honor of Halloween.
And what of the suckers, Starbursts and sour balls, oh my!
Fear not! Nothing goes to waste. Only waistlines.
A local dentist invites the community to bring their leftover Halloween candy to his office.
Then he ships it to military men and women serving overseas. Volumes of candy. At his expense.
How cool is that?!
So you see, my Halloween gluttony ain’t entirely self-serving. Peel back the wrapping for a peek at my patriotism.
However, as with any military venture, there IS that line drawn in the sand: No touchee the Reese’s!
Allelujah, Arizona! 